Coming Through to the Other Side
by JamiW
Summary: Goes along with "Loser Edit", and the wine-drinking conversation that made AP fans smile


**Alicia POV**

* * *

"Can I just leave it tonight that I like sitting, drinking, with you here?"

My voice sounded thick with emotion, even to my own ears, and it wasn't hard to see the flicker of disappointment cross his face, a response to my morose view on love.

But I think there was part relief on his face, too.

Relief that we're back to the point where we can enjoy being in each other's company.

"Sure," he said softly.

We sat for a few minutes in silence, sipping our wine, and I reflected back on his words.

_"I was never as bad as you wanted me to be."_

That made me think about Ramona, and my unprovoked accusation.

Not the part about him sleeping with her, because I'm sure he was, but I mean about the part where he slept with her back in the old days.

The more I sat there and thought about her, the more the relaxation slipped away.

I raised my eyes to him and took a deep breath, pondering the intelligence of diving into this particular pool.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice still low and gravely in the otherwise silent room.

"It's…nothing," I hedged.

"We're here. We're talking. We're not angry. If you have something to get off your chest…"

"Maybe I like the not angry part too much to say it," I replied ruefully.

He stared at me with intensity and sadness and I almost regretted my inability to not let the matter drop. Why can't I just appreciate where we are now? Why can't I let sleeping dogs lie?

_Because it hurt,_ I decided. It hurt to know he was intimate with someone else. And I know, I told him to do it, but I never once anticipated the devastating effect it would have on me.

"Okay, I'll start," he said, taking me by surprise. He picked up the wine bottle and refilled both of our glasses, and then looked at me with sincerity as he said, "I didn't sleep with Ramona back in Highland Park."

"How did you…" I began, but he smiled tiredly, shrugging as he said, "I know you. And when I said I wasn't as bad…well, that's where your mind went."

He _does _know me. I don't know why it always catches me off guard to be reminded of it.

"Peter, it's none of my business," I said quickly, because I realized things were starting to get deep and I'm not good with deep. I don't like delving into my feelings and opening old wounds.

"Yes, it is. If I'd slept with her then, it would certainly be your business," he corrected. "But I didn't. I never even looked at her like that. I should've told you that day in the car, but…well, you pissed me off."

He flashed me a sheepish smile, and I found myself holding back a laugh.

The things I said to him that day…not one of my finer moments. It's no wonder he let me torture myself with misconceptions.

"Anyway," he continued. "I promise you, when I first ran into her again, a few months ago, that was the first time there was any hint of anything between us."

"Oh. Um…okay."

"And I have a theory about that," he said. "If you want to hear it."

I don't want to hear it. I don't want to think about him being with her, or anyone else. But as I sat there, I held his gaze and I wondered - not for the first time - how I've ever been able to resist this man.

Power and charisma and intelligence just exude from every pore.

It's part of the reason why, for just a moment when he first gave me that look a few minutes ago, I briefly considered it. Sleeping with him, I mean. His expression had been playful and seductive, one that hinted at danger as well, because how crazy would it be for us to backtrack now? Now that we can talk civilly to each other?

But crazy or not, I entertained the notion. For all of a half-second, maybe. Because even if I'm exhausted of the word, I _do_ love him. I always have.

It's the_ liking_ him that's been on the ropes lately.

"Sure, why not? We're here," I said, using his words from before. I sat back and took a healthy sip of wine before looking at him challengingly.

"I was missing you," he said. "And the way we used to be. She reminded me of home, back when home was all four of us together."

I nearly scoffed at his words, but as he finished his statement and I let it sink in, it was something I could understand. I've spent some time missing those days, too.

"Ramona was a link to the past. And she was safe. Discreet."

"Well," I said with a purposeful roll of my eyes.

"Okay, maybe not so discreet," he said on a chuckle. "But you get what I'm saying."

"I…do, yes," I reluctantly agreed, still mystified by the idea that we're sitting here discussing his sex life.

"It wasn't about love," he said. "It was about being lonely, and being cut off from the one I _do_ love. You didn't just close the door for us, you slammed it shut."

There wasn't any heat or malice in his voice, like he was just stating facts, and as much as I hated to hear it, he was right.

"But that's in the past," he said, since I found myself robbed of speech as I thought about all we've been through this past year.

And where we might be right now if I'd reacted differently to Will's death. If I'd welcomed Peter's comfort instead of pushing him away.

Now we'd be…_what?_ Would I still be the SA? Would we be sitting here having a pleasant, albeit very odd conversation?

Or would it have been something else that put a wedge between us because we, Peter and Alicia, aren't meant to be?

"And I know how much you hate difficult conversations, so I should probably be sorry that I brought it up," he said, setting his glass down so that he could reach over and touch my hand with his finger. "But it's been bothering me, that I never cleared the air with you about Ramona. I want to be able to put that behind us."

His light touch called the attention of my gaze, so I watched as his fingertip traced the back of my hand, and I thought about the effect it was having on the rest of me. A subtle, pleasant feeling…

"Mom?"

I heard Grace at the same time the front door slammed, and Peter and I both moved slightly away from each other, as if we were about to be caught in some compromising position.

"In here," I called out, moments before Grace appeared in the doorway.

"Dad. You're here," she said in surprise. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, sweetheart," Peter said, moving around the counter to give Grace a hug.

Grace returned the embrace, but her eyes were on me, probably searching for any sign that I might be upset. I feel bad that this is what I've done to her. I've made her suspicious when she sees her parents in the same room.

"Good, okay," she said as she stepped away. "I'm just going to grab a few things, and then I'm headed to Kara's. Is that okay?"

She was still gauging my mood, and even offering to change her plans, in case I need her, and I felt such a rush of love for her, while at the same time, irritation with myself.

_She's the kid._ She shouldn't have to feel the need to watch out for me.

And I'm actually still really enjoying my time with Peter. If I weren't, I'd have no problem showing him the door.

"It's fine, Grace," I promised. "Go. Have fun, and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

I held out my arm, and she came around to give me a quick hug, where I still sat on the stool, and then she was gone again, heading for her room.

"God, she's so…" Peter said with pride as he watched her leave.

"Grown?" I supplied, relaxing again for the first time since Ramona entered my mind.

She's the past.

_And she wasn't the problem_, my mind also pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed, turning to look at me and matching my smile. "And beautiful, like her mother."

"I think there's a little bit of both of us in there," I conceded.

"God, I hope not," he said quickly, his eyes lit with amusement. "I hope she's all you."

Then he picked up his glass again, downing the rest of it in one swallow before quirking another grin at me and saying with great flourish, "Madam State's Attorney."

"You start calling me that, and I'll start calling you Governor," I warned as the laughter bubbled out of me.

"Well it's about time you address me properly," he teased.

"I'm out!" Grace said breezily, and then she paused as she stood in the doorway, clearly surprised at having caught us laughing. She tilted her head as she looked at me and then smiled fully and said, "Love you guys."

"Love you, too, sweetheart," Peter responded in unison with me, and when she was gone, his expression suddenly went serious, our laughter from moments ago forgotten.

"So love does mean something to you. Just not where I'm concerned," he said.

"Peter," I said on a sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing my hand across my forehead. I felt mentally exhausted from our emotional conversation, and I wanted to glaze past it and get back to the laughter. I wanted to just tell him I love him so that we don't have to _talk_ about it.

"I'm sorry," he said, shifting on the stool as though he's about to get up. "I think I've overstayed my welcome."

When I realized that he was planning to leave, it hit me that I didn't want him to go. Tough discussions or not, I've really liked having him here. Being able to talk without fighting is something we haven't done in a long time.

_A long, long time_ was the thought that came unbidden and in spite of the gravity of the moment, I nearly laughed out loud, thinking of Peter's earlier tease.

And to think if I'd taken him up on it, Grace might have found us in a _really_ compromising position.

But of course, I'd shot him down quickly, insulting him with a derogatory remark. Always looking for a place to stick it? That was crude and uncalled for. He might have gone through a phase when that was true, but that's not who he is.

"Stay," I said quickly, my thoughts having given him time to get up and reach for his cell phone that was on the table. He turned to me, a questioning look on his face, and I elaborated by saying, "I mean, we still have to finish the wine."

My gaze followed his, as it went to the bottle on the table, and I realized it was empty.

"You think this is my only bottle?" I added playfully as I got up with the intent of getting another bottle.

"Why?" he asked cautiously, his hand reaching out to gently touch my waist, stopping my movements as I catalogued the feel of the current that flowed between us.

"Because so far this is the best evening I've had in a while," I said honestly. "And I'm not ready for it to end."

He continued to look into my eyes as the moment weighed heavily between us, and I could understand his reluctance because it's not like I've been nice to him lately. Before tonight, I mean. Although I've only been partly nice to him tonight, and yet he still seems to want to stay.

When he remained silent, I moved away from him and went to the cabinet to get another bottle.

"One more glass," I encouraged, turning back towards him as I held up the Cabernet in offering, and I was surprised by the amount of relief I felt when he finally smiled and said, "Let me get that."

He opened the bottle and topped us off, and we slipped back into conversation. And he didn't just stay for one more glass. We killed the entire second bottle while engaging in light, easy conversation.

And this time when he got up to go, I got up, too. And I gave him a hug. It just felt like the thing to do, after such a nice evening, and I'd almost forgotten how good it feels to be held by him.

"Thank you," I said, still enveloped comfortably in his embrace.

"It's tough being a politician, isn't it?" he empathized. "You don't know what you can say, or who you can trust, and you have to be on constant alert for what the press might report next…"

"Like the emails," I stated. How wonderful was it to spend a few hours _not_ thinking about those?

"Don't worry about it," he said, squeezing me just a little tighter as he dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "We've got it all figured out."

I appreciated his willingness to help do damage control for me, and it also makes me realize how hard things have been for him, spending years and years in the public spotlight. Of course, I've been there as well in recent years, but as I've learned from the SA campaign, being the candidate is different than being the spouse.

"Newly elected, and I'm already hiding skeletons," I remarked.

"Hey," he soothed, pulling back from me slightly so that he could look at me. "The press isn't doing their job if they don't find a few bones. But I've got your back."

_He does_, I thought. Despite my anger and accusations over his election day remark, he came through for me in the end. He's stood beside me. And when he showed up on election night to celebrate my victory, it meant _so_ much to me.

I felt tears burning my eyes from emotion brought on by his intense sincerity, and when his gaze shifted briefly to my mouth, I knew he wanted to kiss me, and I decided I was okay with that, so I didn't back away. I just let it happen.

But it took forever.

I'm sure he was afraid of backlash or rebuke if he made any kind of move at all, but after several long seconds of awkward tension, he finally pressed his lips against mine.

It was sweet and gentle and reverent. It didn't set fires blazing inside of me, but rather a slow, steady stoking of embers.

Which makes sense, I suppose.

After a few moments, he pulled back, his expression unsure and almost apologetic, but I smiled and settled my palms against his chest.

"I _do_ love you, Peter. I always have. And for a while that made me mad, because I've spent some time not liking you. Some of it was your fault and some of it was mine, but I think maybe we _have _come through to the other side. I think I'm ready to like you again."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, grinning with relief and then waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"We're not having sex," I replied on a laugh, pushing at him playfully, but not making any serious move to escape his embrace.

"I know," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "I just wanted to hear you laugh again before I go."

"Maybe we can do this again sometime," I offered. "I'll have to check my schedule, of course, and I know you have that trip coming up…"

"I'll have my people get with your people?" he teased.

"I'd like that," I said with a smile, and the funny thing is, I really would like that. Spending another evening with him, I mean. He had a point about the difficulties of politicians. And who understands what it's like to be the State's Attorney better than Peter?

"Me, too," he agreed. Then he kissed me once more, just a brief meeting of lips, before stepping away and reaching for his cell phone.

I walked him to the door, and then it was my turn to kiss him.

And I'm not sure what made me do it, except maybe it's just about the comfort of being with someone who knows me. Who's known me for most of my adult life.

"Good night, Alicia," he said once I pulled away. He had a soft smile on his face, and God, I really love _this_ Peter. This one who's been here tonight. The one who makes me feel like it's him and me against the world. Of course, I love the rest of him, too. I can't help it.

And I meant what I said. I think I'm truly ready to like him again, too. In fact, I think I already do.

He put his hand on the knob, and I know once he opens the door, he'll have his duty outside waiting for him, so I put my hand on his arm and quietly said his name, causing him to look back at me in question.

"Maybe next time you can stay for coffee."

"A morning meeting?" he asked, clearly not catching my meaning, although I don't blame him because it's surely the last thing he expected me to say.

"No," I said with a smile. "I mean a meeting that starts with wine and ends with coffee. In the morning."

"Oh, a long meeting?" he asked with understanding.

"A long, _long_ meeting."

He laughed, and I found myself laughing along with him, and maybe I accused him earlier of being eighteen, but I kind of feel like it right now, with the excitement of _what if_ floating between us.

I mean, I've always wanted it to work between us. Sometimes it just didn't.

But the hope of finding happiness again - finding it with _Peter _again - it's energizing.

So it wouldn't really be backtracking if we were to sleep together, would it?

"You know what?" I said as I took hold of his hand, making the move before I could overthink it and change my mind.

"What?"

"Let's not wait for next time."

"You mean…"

"I mean I want you to stay."

**The End**

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**A/N: Big thanks to Jodes, who's been patiently (or not so!) waiting for me to find my AP muse. This season has been slim pickins, without a doubt, so I had to jump on what little bit there is, as quickly as possible, before TPTB mess it up again! **


End file.
